Demented Confessions 13 – A Brush With Death

brush w death

sorry, I couldn’t resist

 

a Brush with Death. by clinock. 6″ x 8″ (15 x 20 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

fāz/the Jester and her Jester

A jester and her jester

Why are we not all born

with a jester attached?

With us until we die.

To keep us awake.

To remind us of the truth.

To fill mortality with laughter

and the jingle of bells?

If the jester

listens to her jester

as the brain listens to the heart

she may eventually find peace

among the flow and thrust

of our twisted ribbons.

Are we finally saved then,

can I relax now

or did i get it wrong again?

I’m certain I saw a family resemblance

and, it was only yesterday was it not

that the ferryman winked at me?

And although the days are losing definition

I’m certain it was the same day

you made a necklace out of acorns

and hung it around my neck, laughing.

The partnership is blessed

and sacrificed

at the same moment.

The breast to the memory stone.

Not a circle after all but an arc.

And all is suddenly Carnival,

bright and loud and gilded,

showing the folds and creases

of pockets and wallets and bags

as we leave them at the door.

Unburdened

we are

free to dance.

The Jester and her Jester. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel.

Painting and poem by clinock.

fāz/the carnival is over

after the Carnival

warm and salty winds

caress bones and sad singing

of a dancing past

 

 

The Carnival is Over. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel.

Painting and haiku by clinock.

Person Avoiding Mortality…

Person Avoiding Mortality by Clinock. 18″ x 22″. Graphite, Conte and Charcoal on paper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mortality by Clinock.

From blazing deserts and cold oceans

I walked the road that leads to nowhere,

A hero of my own adventures,

Taking life as my lover and

Pride as my guide

I never noticed, I was blind

To the third always walking beside us,

Hooded and cloaked.

A figure waiting patiently

In shadowed meditation.

But now I sense the presence

Of the third always walking beside us;

And I creep quietly away

From the truth that steals light

From my day.

There is no geometry of hope.

No angle in which to hide.

There is no dissection

Through which light can enter

My empty heart.

The road kill and the graves

Of thousands of brothers and sisters

Share the truth of

Mortality. The end of all this

Is inescapable.